The Girl That Wasn't
by This Girl Maybe
Summary: Sometimes the past can seem like another lifetime.
1. The Girl That Wasn't

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The Girl That Wasn't**  
  
Summary: Sometimes, the past can seem like another life.  
  
A/N: Completely AU…or is it?

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It was 16:34 on a warm Tuesday afternoon as Jack strolled down the dismal corridors of the SGC. He, of course, wasn't aware that it was a sunny day on the surface because he was trapped twenty eight levels down, practically ordered to finish his paperwork. He'd taken a little break, which had turned into an expedition hoping to cajole Daniel or Teal'c to invent him a task that needed his immediate attention. Neither were particularly bothered about his situation; the former just nodded disinterestedly whilst huddled over a dusty old book and the latter had decided that it would be the perfect time to get in his extra Kel'No'Reem-ing.  
  
So that's why he was en route to Carter's lab, hands firmly in pockets and smiling amiably at the passing airmen, occasionally fielding requests of the completion of reports; it seemed Hammond had everyone on his case.  
  
"Carter?" O'Neill sounded as he reached her lab, the door wide open. He tentatively entered as the Major was nowhere in sight, lifting up and examining some interesting doohickeys that no doubt she would be aghast to learn he was fiddling with, "Carter, you hiding in here or something?" He asked out loud despite the fact that her lab was completely empty.  
  
With a lack of something to do, apart from paperwork which he really didn't want to do, he took a wander round her laboratory, watching the blinking lights flash repeatedly and then trying to close his eyes at the correct time so it appeared like they weren't flashing off at all. Deciding that maybe that would look a bit idiotic on the CCTV, especially as those geeks were just looking for a way to humiliate him in front of Carter, he moved to her desk to sit down, thinking that she'd be back and he could use her as a first line of defence against Hammond.  
  
Sitting on the chair that Carter had no doubt stolen ("borrowed nicely…without permission" he could practically hear her intone inside his head) from another techies lab, he cast an eye over the files, papers and calculations flooding her desk. For someone who was always so organised, she had really let her desk flood with paperwork this week. He picked up a few sheets of paper, glanced over them and then remembered why he wasn't good at mathematics, and then began reading some papers written by his second in command but couldn't get past the title. If they'd been about astronomy it would have been a different matter, but when he had Carter around to understand everything science-y, why did he need to know it too?  
  
After five minutes Jack decided that it looked like Sam was either eating, or judging by the amount of paperwork she had, using his tactics of accosting Daniel and Teal'c for an excuse. He was about to get up from the chair when something caught his attention, shining underneath a pile of paper and folders. Pushing the offending objects away, he pulled out a silver photo frame, reflecting in the somewhat harsh overhead light and the blinking lights of the various machines. Holding underneath the desk lamp, he saw two blonde haired girls smiling eagerly into the camera. One he recognised as a teenaged Samantha Carter; all innocence and blue eyes, at about sixteen he guessed by the style of the clothes. The girl whose arm Carter wrapped around looked incredibly similar; the same features, the same hair colour paired with the same eyes and smile, just slightly younger than Carter if his guess was right. The girl wore slightly bohemian clothes, yet acceptable for suburban America; he assumed it was most likely a close cousin.  
  
He was about to place it down on the table again and hide it as he had found it but before he could, the photo fell out. Jack picked both the photograph and the frame, giving the latter an annoyed look as he realised the back of the small stand-up frame was well worn. He flipped the photo over, rather nosily, and saw Carter's familiar scrawl at the bottom;  
  
_Me and Beth, back yard, Washington, 1978._  
  
The photo was worn at the edges, and the back was slightly brown but otherwise was in perfect condition; it was obvious that the picture meant a lot to his second in command.  
  
Deciding that he was becoming too much of a busybody, especially disrespecting not only his 2IC's but friend's privacy, he hurriedly placed the photo in the frame and re-hid it. He looked steadily down at the desk as he arranged the papers to look as they had before he'd arrived and his heart jumped as he heard someone's voice at the door.  
  
"What are you doing?" Her voice was a mixture of hurt and anger; he wasn't sure which he disliked most hearing from her when directed at him.  
  
He slowly looked up towards her, his hands tightening into balls as he realised that Carter would, rightly, be pissed off. "I'm sorry Carter. I came down here to look for you…"  
  
"And then my personal belongings just slipped right into your hands?" She spat quietly, walking towards the table and taking the frame into her hands. "How dare you think you can touch this?"  
  
He understood that he had done wrong, even he admitted it, but that venom in her voice, especially after she apologised, was uncalled for. "Look here Major…"  
  
"Please leave." She replied sternly, "Please just leave."  
  
Jack decided not to inflame the situation any further, and walked towards the door, his head hung low. He stopped at the threshold and turned to see her move to sit on the now empty chair looking completely dejected. "I'm sorry Carter, I didn't mean to offend you."  
  
She looked up momentarily and he wondered if he could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes, "Well, you did Sir." She answered quietly.  
  
And with that he left. Turning to walk down the corridor again, it was clear to anyone that passed that he was not in a good mood. He stopped dead a few seconds after leaving, surprising the airman that was approaching. Giving an apologetic nod, he turned back towards Carter's lab but before entering lingered at the entrance, unseen by his second.   
  
He could see her crying. The door was pulled, almost closed, and no-one walking past would have suspected that the diligent Major Carter was crying. But if they had stopped they would have heard the small muffles of sobs. Jack walked away from the door, thoroughly confused.

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Feedback? Many hugs and kisses….


	2. Angel Of My Nightmare

Chapter Two - Angel Of My Nightmare  
  
Daniel's office was in its usual state; messy, untidy and generally a haven for any lurking spiders who wanted to make a home for themselves. Daniel defended his lab on many times, calling it "organised chaos" but Jack had decided that it was just chaos. Sitting at the table surrounded by musty, ancient books and dozens of artefacts, Jack concluded that he was probably the tidiest member of SG-1 which was really saying something.  
  
"Daniel?" Jack asked suddenly after sitting with his friend in silence for quarter of an hour.  
  
"Yes?" Daniel replied, sounding more than a little distracted.  
  
"Have you seen Carter today?"  
  
Daniel's head flicked upwards suddenly, at once expressing a renewed interest in the conversation. "If you're wondering whether she's still annoyed with you…the answer is yes."  
  
Jack frowned, his brow creasing in confusion; he knew he'd behaved completely inappropriately but Carter was taking this way too seriously. He'd said he was sorry, and he genuinely meant that. Surely she knew him well enough to know how rare it was for him to say sorry. "Don't start on me Daniel, I apologised to her."  
  
Daniel momentarily pushed his translation away, settling his glasses down onto the desk and rubbing his eyes; he knew he should have had an extra cup of coffee that morning, "I don't think that's what it's about."  
  
"Then what is it about?" Jack countered with a frustrated sigh.  
  
"I think she's upset about something else too," Daniel replied as though talking to a small child. He noticed the flash of annoyance on Jack's face but he was far too tired to alter the tone of his voice or even apologise for it, "What, though, is a mystery."  
  
Jack rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. He knew it had something to do with that photo. Last year when he'd done practically the same thing, but the photograph had been replaced by some notebook of hers, she'd just laughed and told him that he could borrow it if he was that interested, "Do you know any of Carter's relations called Beth?"  
  
Daniel shook his head with a frown, "No. I only know of Mark and his kids." He paused, "Why'd you ask?"  
  
"No reason. Just…wondered." Jack replied. Maybe it wasn't related to the photo; maybe it was her the anniversary of her mom's death. Her mood had been stormy and difficult for a few days and that was reminiscent of how Jack acted whenever Charlie's anniversary was near. "When did her mom die?" He asked, suddenly feeling very ashamed that he had no idea the time of year, let alone the month and day that one of his closest friend's parent died.  
  
"Um, October 15th I think," Daniel answered, "That's six months away…it can't be about that can it?"  
  
Jack shrugged, "I have no idea." He said slowly before rising from his seat and wandering towards the door.  
  
"Where are you going?" Daniel asked, his voice holding a slight tone of worry, "Don't go and see Sam."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because you'll inevitably put your foot in your mouth and make whatever she's thinking about worse."   
  
Jack scowled, "I'll do no such thing. I just want to know what's troubling her that's all. And if you're not able to do it…" He gestured towards the piles of translations that various teams wanted him to do, "Then I'm the next best thing…right?"  
  
Sam looked at the photo in her hand as though it held the answers to all of life's secrets. She kept the photo by her bedside, right next to an old picture of her mother and father's wedding day. A copy stood on her mantelpiece, pride of place in her living room. That was until her friends arrived upon which it was safely tucked away in a drawer. She'd always promised to leave it out and deal with the inevitable questions, but her courage never came.  
  
She'd known it was a stupid idea to take the photo to work but she couldn't help it. Sometimes, some days, it felt like she was slowly forgetting Beth as though she was part of another life, another existence which didn't matter any more. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Bringing the photo to work meant that she was still a part of her life, still as important now as she was then. And part of her just wanted to see her face, see her eyes and her smile without feeling guilty.  
  
"Come at the wrong time Carter?"   
  
Sam looked up to the Colonel as though she was caught in headlights and as quickly as she could, stuffed the photo in the nearest available drawer. She knew that O'Neill had seen it already but that didn't equate to her being able to field any questions just yet. "Sir," She replied with a weak smile, her voice trembling. She attempted to steady it but it was obvious she'd been crying, "Anything I can do for you?"  
  
He entered her lab without an invitation but then she supposed her could do pretty much anything he liked; he was the 2IC of the base, "I wanted to talk to you about yesterday." The words sounded uncomfortable and awkward.  
  
"I apologise whole-heartedly," She answered, her voice military and collected. She guessed that was what the Air Force façade could do; drain emotions and deny they existed at all, "My behaviour was completely inappropriate and I understand if you would like to report it."  
  
Colonel O'Neill just smiled and Sam began to wonder if he had a masochistic streak, "I don't think anyone will be reporting you Carter. Me, possibly, but not you. And I should be the one to say sorry. I acted like an idiot, and I hope you can forgive me."  
  
Sam nodded, her smile brighter and more genuine than before, "Consider yourself absolutely forgiven." She'd known she'd overreacted…it shouldn't have surprised the venom with which she attacked the Colonel; it happened frequently if someone unintentionally discovered Beth, but she'd never have thought she would have acted to Colonel O'Neill in such a manner.  
  
"How about I buy you some lunch in the mess hall?"  
  
Sam tilted her head with the raise of an eyebrow, "It's free Sir."  
  
"Then all the better," He replied with a smile, backing towards the door, "Coming?"  
  
"I'll meet you there in ten." She replied, beginning to sort a space within her stacks of paper, watching the Colonel leave her lab and then return a few seconds later, "Sir?" She asked, puzzled at his reappearance.  
  
"I forgot to mention Carter, I loved your Farrah hair." He added with a quick grin and she instantly knew he was referring to the photo where both she and Beth had sported "Charlie's Angels" styles, much to the amusement of Mark who'd decided that they were merely falsely liberated women when he'd been going through his annual socialist political phase much to the disappointment of their father, "And your cousin's was pretty impressive too."  
  
Her smile continued, trying not exhibit the pain she felt throbbing inside her chest. His face faltered as she wondered whether he could read her mind, like so many other times, and see that she was hurting so badly that every word was too small to represent the pain inside her heart. He was turning to leave when she spoke. She wondered if he could hear her because it was so light and distant that if felt like she could barely hear it herself. "She isn't my cousin," She answered, "Elizabeth is my sister."  
  
Thank you for all the feedback and I hope you enjoyed this part. Comments always help me write and do a fanfic writer's ego good!  
  
More coming to a computer screen near you… 


	3. Her Door Was Always Open

**Chapter Three - Her Door Was Always Open**

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_"My door's always open, you can call anytime you want..."_

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"Sister?" Jack echoed, wondering if he had heard correctly. Surely he'd misunderstood?  
  
Sam nodded slowly, her eyes filling with tears. Her face flushed red with the embarrassment of letting her emotions show but it felt like she couldn't hold back anymore and after so many years of denial and repression, the dam had finally burst. She wiped her eyes brusquely, her cheeks rubbed of any traces of salty tears. She looked to him hesitantly, trying to gauge his reaction, wondering whether he hated her for not telling him.  
  
"You have a sister?" He asked again, this time was less for confirmation but more for filling the uncomfortable silence as he saw his second crying in front of him. He approached the lab table slowly and cautiously, unsure as to whether she would want the meagre comfort he could provide. He was notoriously bad at reassuring people and Sara would testify to that. Maybe Daniel was right; he'd just put his foot in his mouth again and cause her to feel even worse. He was unclear as to why she was crying but he guessed it had something to do with her mother's death; she'd patched up her relationship with Mark and her father, maybe Elizabeth wasn't so forthcoming.   
  
"Two years younger than me." Sam said out of the blue and Jack took that as a sign she was willing to talk and he was certainly willing to listen. He pulled a chair-type thing from the corner and sat opposite her at the desk, pulling the door closed so no gossiping airmen or women would eavesdrop the conversation.  
  
"You look identical." Jack added, gesturing towards the photo which Sam picked up in her hands, her eyes tracing the outlines of their happy smiles, the casual arm around Beth's shoulder, the hair they'd perfected for hours that morning. It was almost a relief to talk to someone about her, to realise that she wasn't a figment of her imagination like it felt, that Beth existed, somewhere.   
  
"Everyone used to tell us that," She commented with a small smile, the corners of her lips lifting. Jack was relieved that the tears had subsided and that his second was more concerned with reminiscing about her childhood, however unhappy some elements of it had been, "When we were younger, we'd pretend we were twins. Even Mom and Dad forgot we weren't sometimes." She paused, placing the photo back down, her mood sobering almost instantly. "But that was a long time ago. Before mom died…"  
  
"She must have been about eleven, right?" Jack asked, then mentally hitting himself. Why would she want to talk about the most traumatic event in her life? It was like someone asking him about Charlie, upon which he would clamp up like a small child, his voice would turn gravelly and strained and it felt like the clocks had turned back to when he heard that gunshot.  
  
"Yeah," Sam replied softly, so gently that he could barely catch her voice, "After she died, Beth tried to do everything. She was Mark's confidante, someone to listen to him and understand the pain that no-one else could bear to think about. And she used to help me with cooking, making sure I didn't burn the house down," Sam paused with a teary smile, "And she'd be the perfect daughter for Dad. The one he didn't have to worry about whether she was working too hard or partying too hard like he did with me and Mark. Turns out no-one was there for her. We were all too busy telling her our problems that we never listened to hers."  
  
Jack was sure that meant something important but at that stage was unsure as to its connotations. Sam's voice lowered as she spoke the last words, her body language becoming tight and guilty. He neared the table, his hands creeping onto the desk to hold hers in his own. She glanced up, a look of uncertainty on her face, but didn't say a word, "It must have been hard for her."  
  
Sam nodded, grateful for Jack's words. If she stopped talking, stopped listening to what he was asking her, her mind would float back to the dreadful months after her mother's death.  
  
_"Lizzie?" Jacob called up the stairs, his voice loud and demanding. His posture was frustrated as he tapped his foot on the worn carpet and waited for his youngest child to make an appearance. Behind him, Mark and Sam stood impatiently, both shooting daggers at their father between arguing with each other about the most asinine problems.  
  
Finally Elizabeth clambered down the stairs, text books in arm. Her hair was tied up with a ribbon as requested with the colours of her high school which was currently a shade of blue that perfectly matched her own, and Sam's eyes. She bowed her head slightly as she saw Sam glaring at her; her sister was practically paranoid about late for anything, something which Beth presumed stemmed from their mother's passing. She shook herself mentally, trying to lift herself out of her misery. Dad wouldn't like it. She reached the bottom of the stairs and Jacob opened the door, letting Mark out who immediately jumped in the back, keeping furthest away from their father. Sam slid in next to him as Jacob followed Elizabeth out the door.  
  
"So are you coming to the swim meet tonight?" Elizabeth asked, turning round to look at Jacob as they walked down the garden path, "It'll be the toughest meet this year but Coach thinks we have a good chance of winning and-..."  
  
"Lizzie," Jacob interrupted, his tone placating and gentle in a way that aroused suspicions in Elizabeth immediately, "I'm going away for a few days didn't Sammie and Mark tell you?"  
  
Elizabeth bit her lip, almost drawing blood as she restrained herself from shouting at him about how unfair it was. She wasn't going to be that cliché, she refused to be. "No, they didn't," She replied in a measured voice, looking towards Sam who was staring up at the sky from inside the car, her expression dreamy and reminiscent of when the whole family would lie on the lawn and watch the clouds. No doubt her sister was dreaming of flying up to the sky and never coming back down again. "I guess they just forgot."  
_  
"We were so busy all arguing with each other that we didn't notice her," Sam replied, her guilt seeping through in the strained words that she spoke, "I suppose I figured that she'd be OK because she was Elizabeth; the one who kept it all together."  
  
"And she wasn't? OK, I mean? She wasn't OK?" Jack asked, sensing that there were more reasons than was first obvious for why Carter didn't want people to know about her sister.  
  
Sam shook her head silently, and she could feel the tears spring into life but she refused to submit again. She'd shed so many tears at the time that she never thought she'd cry again. "No, she wasn't." She verbally acknowledged, her voice tender and quiet, "I came home one day from school expecting to see her. She always got home before me although I don't know how. I searched the house, calling for her. I went into the garden to see if she was sunbathing and she wasn't," Sam paused, drawing an uncomfortable breath and his hand tightened, "That's when I started to worry. I heard the car in the garage and something in me knew. I smashed the door open and the gas hit me like a wave. I ran to turn the car off and I dragged her body outside. I tried resuscitating her but she was cold. I'd never felt her that cold before. The doctors told us afterwards that she'd been dead since noon. She was only fourteen."  
  
Jack had no idea what to say, or what to do. So he rose from his seat and pulled his second into a bear hug, knowing that whilst it didn't take away the pain or make anything hurt less, it certainly helped to know someone was there for you even when trapped in the vast depths of grief, "I'm so sorry." He whispered into her ear, the words sounding so inconsequential.  
  
She pulled away slightly, wiping her wet eyes with her hand. "Thank you." She replied genuinely, knowing how hard it was for him with Charlie's death, but he was still there for her, still ready to offer his support and comfort. She sat back down on her seat albeit looking more fragile and he leant against the lab table. "I had therapy. The doctors didn't think that losing my mother and my sister in the space of three years was helpful," She paused, wiping her eyes, "Some of them even thought I might do the same. But however much I wanted to be with her, I knew I could never be that brave or selfish."

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More coming soon…  
  
Feedback much welcomed! 


	4. Place Of Shadows

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Chapter Four - A Place of Shadows**

_A/N: I sincerley thank everyone who has reviewed this story and I hope you enjoy this last part and that Elizabeth is a well-rounded original character, and **not** a Mary-Sue! For explanation about the title, see the end of the story._

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It looked as she had remembered it despite all the years that had passed. Her brain blocked the broken bench and the rusting plaques on the walls and she mentally ignored the yellowing photos of nameless dead. In her mind, Elizabeth had just died and it was the following horrific months where she cried for days in her bedroom as Mark partied till he was clinically dead and her father worked all hours of the day, forgetting the existence of his now passed youngest daughter. He had steadfastly refused to remember her, deciding that her choice of death was a betrayal to him and even their mother who had loved life and her children. But even he in his confused grief, shed silent tears. Now was different though, now things had changed. The three remaining Carters rejoined to reminisce on both Marie and Elizabeth, remembering them without feelings of regret or disappointment, but with cherished memories that would never fade.  
  
Her feet still remembered the way to the grave even if her mind didn't, walking mechanically to the spot where she would spend so many hours, sitting and thinking about everything she had never done and had never said. Lizzie wasn't buried with her mother in the crowded graveyard several states away, mainly because when Marie Carter, morbidly in her husband's opinion, bought the grave spots in the beautiful cemetery overlooking a blooming forest, she didn't think either she or Jacob would be in need of them for many, many years. Neither did she think that her youngest daughter, full of childhood innocence, would kill herself in a fit of grief, and then would need to be buried miles away from her mother.  
  
She looked down at the slab of granite stone, carved in the traditional shape of gravestones. Several lines of gold swirling script created a striking contrast with the dark background, and bore Elizabeth's birth year and the year in which she died, fourteen years later. Sam's eyes traced over the letters, taking each one in as though they were as important as the whole word itself.  
  
_Elizabeth Carter  
  
1964-1978  
  
Much loved sister to Samantha and Mark  
  
Adored daughter of Marie and Jacob  
  
"All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,  
  
and to die is different from what anyone supposed."_  
  
Sam's mind clouded with remorse as she noticed the fresh flowers adorning the grave, several unfamiliar vases crowding the small space allowed for each grave. It was neither she nor her father who'd tended to her sister's grave and so, she concluded, it had been Mark that had overcome his guilt and grief to help Elizabeth in death, if not in life. Kneeling down on the dry grass, she placed the single white Tiger Lily across the bottom of the headstone, wiping a tear away as she stood back up. She didn't need to turn around to know where the bench sat, still in the same position but more weathered, and she backed towards it, collapsing onto the wood as it caught her form.  
  
Her eyes drifted to the park in the far distance, her ears tuning to the yells and cheers of children that played, blissfully unaware of the pain of life. Sam remembered strolling past the park to and from school, occasionally peeking over the fence of the cemetery to see mourning relatives crying at loved-one's graves. That had been in the first few months in Holdenbrook, Ohio and the third move in the two years since her mother had died; after the first transfer she had become used to the fact that even thought her mother's grave was in one place, her father wasn't concerned with staying there. Gradually she gained in confidence as she walked past, watching for minutes instead of seconds and feeling something inside of her desperate to have somewhere she could remember her mother.  
  
_"Don't you think its kinda creepy?" Beth whispered as they walked through the cast iron gates, gravel underneath their sandals and perfectly pruned hedges guiding their way to the non-existent grave.  
  
Sam glared at her sister silently, not wanting to disturb the ethereal peace that the graveyard possessed. As they reached a quieter spot where neither could be seen, she dragged Beth to the side, her eyes like daggers. "You don't have to be here if you don't want to be." She replied simply, having no time for thirteen year old dramatics. "Go home if that's what you think is best. But I'm staying here."  
  
Beth looked around, her eyes glancing over the surroundings as if something they concealed a hidden evil behind the solemn flowers and respectful scenery, "I'm not going home," She replied quietly, "I just think we should tell Dad what we're doing."  
  
Sam snorted quietly, brushing the hair out of her face with a hand, "If you're going to be as deluded to think Dad cares what we do then I'm going to leave you right here…" She answered, her wedge shoes creating the only sound as they impacted on the small stones covering the ground. She'd walked several metres; more than she'd expected, before Lizzie caught up.  
  
"Wait," She called, her tone quiet yet concerned. "Don't go without me."  
_  
Sam's hands automatically reached inside the back pockets of her trousers, a habit she had incurred when trying to impress teenage boys down her avenue, much to annoyance of Mark and her father. Lizzie would just sit on the porch, oblivious to her sister's actions, drawing the outlines of the trees and the birds, before running inside when realising that the washing had been done and needed to be dried. Sam felt the letter inside her pocket, the paper old and worn, the edges yellowing and the writing pale.  
  
_The bench was hard beneath their bodies, hugging their knees to their chest as they stared down at the grave of an unknown woman whose name they did not care about, their minds drifting as easily as leaves in the breeze. Neither had spoken for an hour at least, sitting in complete silence, lost in their own thoughts. Sam had been right; it felt better. If she blurred her vision, and forgot that it was supposed to be cold, it felt like she was at her mother's grave. And at that moment, it didn't matter that it wasn't Marie Carter's body that they were sitting above but just that they had somewhere to grieve for the mother they had only a few precious years with. And it was better than laying in bed with a photo clutched to your chest, or staring out the window at school, or bursting into tears in the shower.  
  
"Do you ever wish that it was you?" Lizzie asked suddenly, her voice startling Sam out of her daydream, "That it had been you Dad had forgotten to pick up?"  
  
Sam's brow knitted in confusion, her eyes glancing to Beth who wore a serious expression indicating that it wasn't just a question to break the ice, "Of course not," She replied, her voice more gravelly than intended, "As much as I miss mom," She paused, a knot forming in her throat, "I know that she and Dad would miss me a hundred times more."  
  
Lizzie nodded solemnly, her head moving so slightly that Sam wondered if her physical assertion was a figment of her imagination, "Maybe it's just me."  
_  
Sam unfolded the letter, her hands wobbly and shaking and the paper waved in the wind as she tried to focus her teary eyes to read it. The creases in the paper were as sharp and clear as when she'd first found the note, scrawled in Lizzie's neat script on the paper that the paper their father brought home from work so they could draw cartoon animals and stickmen. She'd found it underneath Lizzie's pillow as she was laying there, her heart ripped to shreds, her ultra-responsible sister making sure that, even in death, her family knew exactly what to do.  
  
_I'm not sure what to write or what to say that will make this any easier for you to understand because there are no words. We've all been through the same gut-wrenching mornings as we wake up and realise that mom isn't alive anymore and that she won't be in the kitchen, singing along to the radio as she makes breakfast or that she won't ever comfort me after a bad day at school. As much as I love you all, and I do love you more than words can express, the grief seems to wipe all that out, make it obsolete and only leave me to concentrate on that she's dead, and isn't coming back.   
  
Tell Dad that I love him, and that he should be strong and that no-one thinks any less of him if he cries at night because he misses her, because we all do. I know you and Mark will be OK in the end, that you'll make up with Dad and realise how much you need each other; I know it seems unlikely now, but for me, one day, consider loving him again.   
  
I can feel in my heart that you and Mark are going to be wildly successful; before you know it, you'll be in NASA, shooting up to the stars and doing everything you've ever dreamed of. All I ask is that you don't forget me. Tell Mark that I love him, won't you? And tell him I don't hate Therese that much and I give him my permission to marry her (as if he wouldn't anyway)  
  
Well I guess this is it, isn't it?  
  
All my love, forever and ever,  
  
Elizabeth  
_  
He sat down next to her slowly, his movements hesitant and wary yet strangely comforting at the same time. He knew how to treat her, how to act around her, after everything he'd been through he knew that actions said more than words ever could. "Everything alright?" He asked, his voice soft and reassuring, not expecting anything in return.  
  
"Mm," She affirmed quietly, leaning to kiss him gently on his lips, warming her very soul as they touched, "Thanks for being here. For helping me."  
  
"Wouldn't be anywhere else." His hand drifted over to where hers sat on her knee and he squeezed it.  
  
And he didn't let go.  
  
**Fini**

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_In the Old Testament, after death souls gathered in Sheol, which describes either the grave itself or "a place of shadows" where they waited for resurrection day._


End file.
